Clarity
by beautifulXflowerXJo
Summary: He heard her long before he would get the chance to see her. Bucky/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the storyline and my OC.**

He heard her long before he would get the chance to see her. Her breathing was slow and ragged and sounded somewhat shallow amidst the darkness flooding his cell as well as the whole corridor, despite the muddled light coming from the single bulb hanging from the ceiling in the hall. His own body was screaming at him, his muscles painfully stretched, serving as an aching reminder of what he has been through just hours before but he had learned with time to force himself to ignore the pain. Right now he didn't even have to try though, because no matter how much he hurt, all he could focus on were the obvious efforts she had to make as she struggled to take a breath, which proved to be far more difficult that it normally should after the experiments she had undoubtedly undergone.

The noise was coming from the cell next to his, both of which opened into the corridor and therefore the barred doors were right next to each other. He could tell it was a female from the gentle pants and coughs she let out every now and then before she continued to quietly gasp for breath. He fleetingly wondered what she was like ( _was she young? what had they done to her? what colour was her hair?_ ) before he realised the sounds had ceased.

A vague feeling of worry passed through him, startling him profoundly, as it had been long since he had felt anything even remotely resembling care for another human being (if he could even be considered that anymore). In fact, he had stopped feeling anything a long time ago, all sentimets had been wiped away from him in order to turn him into the useful machine he had become, pain was the only emotion he could still recognise. So this sudden feel of concern ( _was it that?_ ) was extremely confusing, to say the least ( _was he even able to feel anything other than pain?_ ). He immediately shook his head, his dark tresses falling over his face, covering his eyes. _Sympathy is weakness_ , he reprimanded himself, thinking about the endless hours he had spent strapped to the metal chair in the experimenting room, as he tried to erase the small feeling of worry gnawing on him. If she was not strong enough to withstand the tests done on her, then she simply deserved her fate ( _right?_ ).

Despite his inner turmoil, his ears strained to hear something, anything coming from the other cell, separated from his only by a concrete wall. Then his senses caught her faint breathing. It was indistinct and very low but it was definitely there. The exhaustion and strain must've caused her to fall asleep. And then, in spite of himself and of everything he had just tried to reason with, he felt relief wash over him, as he exhaled and closed his own eyes, letting the darkness take over him as well.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been totally brutal. His training had never been easy but this time it had been completely merciless. When they were done with him he couldn't move his limbs, hell, he wasn't even sure he still _had_ limbs, he couldn't feel a damn thing. He fell to the floor in a heap and passed out, only he didn't really. He couldn't move and his mind was so hazy, but he was still awake although he didn't even have the strength to keep his eyes open and, _fuck_ , he really wished he could be unconscious right now, because the numbness which had spread over his body was slowly turning into razor-sharp pain which crept faster and faster through his veins, until it took over him.

He felt how they lifted his limp body and carried it back to his cell, throwing him onto the mattress on the floor and locking him in. He wasn't asleep but he wasn't fully awake either, he was submerged into this dreamlike state ( _more like a nightmare_ ) and it was like he was paralysed, and all he could think about was the searing pain which pumped through his body, racing at full speed. He tried focusing on his breathing, counting the breaths he took, anything to take his mind off of the pain. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale… _Inhale, exhale…_

A stray, long-forgotten memory flashed through his mind ( _was it a memory? or just a made-up image? his tortured mind couldn't tell the difference anymore…_ ). A woman sat next to him, smiling tenderly, singing a familiar tune ( _was it his mother? so beautiful… maybe it was an angel_ ). The melody carried on through the air, while she gently ran her fingers through his hair ( _he was so small, just a child_ ). Her voice was so soothing. The pain slowly began subsiding until finally it was just a dull ache in his bones, still tangible but it was bearable.

After what seemed like ages, his eyes finally cracked open. It took him a moment to get them to adjust to the perpetual semi-darkness which surrounded him and he blinked a couple of times to fix his blurred vision. His mind was still slightly foggy but it was a great deal better and he made an attempt to wiggle his fingers to test his responses. That's when he heard it. A soft humming, so faint he would've surely missed it had he breathed a touch too loudly. _That voice…_ It wasn't the one from his dream ( _memory?_ ), but it was no less beautiful. He tried to make out the words to the song but it was impossible to accomplish without getting closer to the source ( _the source? who in their right minds could be singing in a place like this?)._ Listening carefully and shaking the last bits of fatigue from his mind, he realised that the tune was coming from outside of his cell, somewhere on the right. _The right_ , his mind albeit tired still worked quickly and he suddenly knew who was singing.

With a lot of effort he managed to somewhat lift his sore body and began to crawl towards the titanium bars of the door of his cell, making a shuffling noise as he dragged his limbs along the floor. The humming momentarily stopped. She had heard him. When he finally got to the door, he slumped heavily against the wall which separated his cell from hers. He didn't know what he was expecting to happen but he just sat there and waited, his breathing a tad ragged. A moment later he heard some movement in her cell, followed by a clinking sound, like metal hitting metal. When he turned his head to look out through the bars, he saw a dainty-looking female hand ( _she's young then_ ) stretched out in his direction, pushing a metal cup towards him, which, by the looks of it, was filled with water ( _but why would she?_ ). Her hand was small and could only reach so far through her bars but when he hesitantly reached out through his, he was able to get the mug easily, after which he watched as her hand drew back before it was hidden from his sight again.

He didn't know just how much he needed the water before it hit his cracked lips. He inhaled it in a single huge gulp and felt like he had been given a remedy for his burning lungs. He rested his head back against the wall, listening to the silence around him which now sounded morbidly deafening. He had no idea what possessed him to do what he did next, all he knew was that he couldn't stand the silence any longer, it was burning holes in his ears.

„Keep singing." He said, his voice hoarse and scratchy. It sounded commanding and hostile, even downright threatening and for a second he pictured her form cowering in a corner at his harshness, regretting the kind gesture she had made, when he was obviously a monster who didn't deserve it. But for some unknown reason she obeyed. And somehow, by the soft, comforting tone of her voice, he knew that it wasn't because she was afraid of him but because she knew how much he needed it. And this time he could hear the words clearly.

' _Dear Angel_ _,_ _ever at my side,_

 _how lovely you must be—_

 _To leave your home in heaven,_

 _to guard a child like me.'_

He closed his eyes and just listened to her voice. It was fair and soothing ( _it felt so strange, to be at peace_ ) and he felt himself gradually calm down. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so at ease ( _perhaps he never had_ ). He sighed inaudibly.

 _'_ _When I'm far away from home_

 _or maybe hard at play_

 _I know you will protect me_

 _from harm along the way.'_

He wondered now more thoroughly what she was like. Was she like him? _(was she as damaged as he was?_ ). She was an experiment, too, that much he had gathered. So why had she shown compassion towards him, didn't she know any better? ( _but she was young, perhaps she had gone through less than him…_ _he hoped so_ ). She didn't even know him… She had never seen him, for all she knew he could've ripped her arm off when she had extended it. _And yet…_

 _'_ _Your beautiful and shining face_

 _I see not though you are near._

 _The sweetness of your lovely voice_

 _I cannot really hear.'_

He opened his eyes, trading one darkness for another. How had she ended up like this? ( _then again, how had he?_ ) Maybe they were both just fortune's fools, unlucky and left without a choice.

 _'_ _When I pray, you're praying too,_

 _Your prayer is just for me._

 _But when I sleep you never do,_

 _You're watching over me.'_

She hummed a couple more notes before she let the melody die down completely. Immediately, he missed the sound. He twirled the empty cup between his fingers for a few moments, before stretching out through the bars and placing it on the exact spot he had taken it from. Leaning back in his previous position, he glimpsed from the corner of his eye how the slender feminine hand came out and made a move to retrieve the object.

Something came over him and he didn't even give it a thought before his right hand, the human one, abruptly jumped towards hers and grabbed her tightly by the wrist ( _what was he doing? maybe this was his twisted way of thanking her_ ). His grip was firm but not rough enough to hurt her ( _if he wanted that, he would've used the metal arm_ ) and her fingers froze within his hold for just a second before relaxing, once she realised it wasn't his intention to harm her. Her hand was warm and smooth, as opposed to his calloused one but, still, he saw the many bruises varying in colour ( _old and new_ ) which marred her skin ( _they shouldn't be there_ ). He felt her hand try to move hesitantly and he loosened his grip a little, giving her the opportunity to slide it away from his if she wished to do so, but to his utmost surprise she didn't pull away ( _…what?_ ). Instead, he watched in astonishment as she wiggled it carefully until it was facing upwards, with her open palm against his ( _… but… why?…_ ). Her hand lingered within his hold for a moment, before her fingers very slowly and gently wrapped themselves around his own and stayed there.

To say he was baffled would be an understatement. This… girl, she was the first person to show him any kindness, any comfort, to treat him like a _human being_ and not a machine ( _a weapon, an experiment, a tool… a murderer_ ) since he had entered this horrendous place which put the fiery pits of hell to shame ( _how long ago had that even been? it felt like centuries_ ). But _WHY?_ That was the thing he found most difficult to comprehend. She was in the same shoes as he was, yet she still found the … compassion? ( _he didn't know what else to call it_ ) to show care to someone other than herself? How? ( _how could she find the strength?_ ) He was well-aware of the fact that his misery never allowed him to stray far enough from it to notice someone else's suffering, be it so close to him as she was, and this thought tugged at his sleeping, almost forgotten _(but not gone, it wasn't gone yet)_ humanity, making him hang his head a bit in shame as his dark hair fell across his face _(but it was just easier, so much easier to do what they wanted him to, instead of resisting and dealing with the consecuences)._

That night, while holding the small comforting hand in his much larger one, he made it his resolve not to succumb to his torturers' wishes. To do everything in his power to hold onto his humanity. To fight against becoming the monster they wanted to turn him into.

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 **Disclaimer: I don't own the poem used in this chapter.**

 **A/N: I'd love to hear what you think, so if you've got the time leave me a review :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own the picture used for this story.**

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The sound of voices woke him up. Not that he wasn't a light sleeper anyway, he was always on guard, even when he was asleep, so his eyes immediately snapped open at the very first distant echo of heavy footsteps down the hall. He listened carefully, his sharp assasin instincts kicking in straight away, trying to assess how many people were there. _Tap-tap-tap._ Two men. Three tops but it was unlikely. He stayed put, hearing them as they neared his cell. Their indistinct voices became clearer.

„Which cell were we supposed to throw it in?" One of them asked in an annoyed tone. _He's dragging his feet,_ the Winter Soldier noted _. He's carrying something_.

„What do you mean, I thought you were listening when they told us?" The other one responded, groaning slightly as if he was struggling with whatever load the two of them were transfering. The other man snorted.

„Guess neither of us paid much attention, huh?" He chuckled nastily. „Well, most of the cages are empty anyway, so let's just dump it into one of 'em and call it a night, eh?" He said, as they drew nearer to his cell and he felt disgusted at the realisation they were discussing a _person_ as if he were an animal or even something inferior. He was not surprised though, he knew well that the men working for HYDRA didn't see them as people at all. Just projects.

„Come on, throw it in here. I think the cell number was 3-0-something anyway." He heard the first man speak again as the two HYDRA agents stopped in front of his door. _Are they both idiots? How'd they even get to work for HYDRA?_ Then again, the inside of his cell was pitch dark, so it was completely possible for them not to see him, especially in his current position, which was sitting on his mattress on the floor with his back pressed to the back wall of the cell, perfectly concealed by the shadows. He could've made a sound to signalize them that the cell already had an occupant but he made no move to do so. There was a vague feeling of dread in his stomach.

The second man took out a pair of keys from his back pocket and fished through them, muttering quietly the numbers written on the keys.

„302… 303… 304…" He went through them, until he found the one which matched the tag above the door of the cell. „Here it is, 308." Inserting it in the lock, he turned it twice and unlocked the door of the cell. The other man, who was now fully supporting the weight of the person the two of them were previously carrying, stepped inside and hauled the small figure forwards, causing it to crash straight into the arms of the Winter Soldier, which quickly spread out to soften the blow of the impact. After that the two men locked the door again and departed.

At first he thought that the person who was thrown into his arms was dead. The limp body felt heavy, like dead-weight, though, in reality, it was no heavier than a sack of flour ( _in truth, it was very light, even more so in his muscled arms_ ). Then he heard the faint breathing, or more like felt it as the chest of the person lifted and fell ever so slightly, although it sounded very shallow. What threw him off was that the petite figure was obviously a woman ( _it couldn't be… could it?_ ). He gripped the body, lifting it easily in his arms and stood up carefully as to avoid jarring it unnecessarily. Taking two big strides, he walked to the door of the cell where the dim lighting from the corridor managed to enter the small space through the bars at least enough to see. Reaching his destination, he sat down slowly, keeping the woman in his embrace, and looked over her features.

Now, the Winter Soldier had been cut off from all human contact long ago, except for the HYDRA agents who had to deal with his training and everything else concerning his transformation into a super soldier, but he still had a general idea about the outside world and certain other things, like women, for example. And he could tell, even in the obscurity of the cell, that this woman was definitely very beautiful, although the many cuts, bruises and scars she had covering her face and bare arms were trying to hide it. She had long dark brown hair which fell in waves over her shoulders and, though her eyes were closed, he had a feeling their colour would be similar ( _then again, he could be wrong, maybe they were blue..._ ). Her facial features were delicate but not doll-like, which made her all the more interesting ( _it made her more real somehow_ ).

Was this the girl from the other cell? It was quite possible though there was no way for him to be certain. _Actually_ … His eyes drifted off to her hands. The right one was draped over her stomach while the left was hanging limply on the other side of her body. As a part of his improvement, all of the Winter Soldier's senses had been enhanced scientifically, but even without this development his eyes could immediately recognise the delicate hand he had held in his own a few nights before ( _it_ _ **was**_ _her_ ). The overwhelming urge to protect her came out of nowhere and hit him like a ton of bricks. He didn't want her to hurt anymore, it saddened him to see her like this _(sadness, he realised, was another emotion long buried_ ). But he couldn't do much at the moment except watch over her. Her face suddenly contorted sharply in pain before relaxing again.

His eyes flickered over her body and what he spotted next made him growl low in the back of his throat. She had multiple small spots and holes in both of her arms, right at the curve on the inner side of her elbow, and running down her forearms, some of them old and faded out but most of them were brand new ( _needles, he realised_ ). So that's what she was to them – a different kind of project. He knew that HYDRA didn't just have one way of creating human weapons, yeah, some of their captives they wiped and trained until they turned into killing machines ( _which was his case_ ), but others they injected with different kinds of serums in an attempt to create a human, who possessed inhumane qualities and strengths, and who would ultimately become the perfect weapon ( _once they got control over it_ ).

But what he also knew was that up until now none of those experiments had succeeded – the subjects they had tested their various concoctions on ended up dead either way, whether it was because they just couldn't handle the serum or because the injected liquid made them lash out which, ultimately, earned them a bullet in the head. So it was a freaking miracle that this girl was still living, especially with the number of attempts the multitude of needle marks suggested. Man, if he ever found out precisely _who_ had marred her features like this ( _the exact person who had put the needle to her pale skin_ ), he would snap him in half. At the thought, his metal hand twitched angrily before tightning into a fist. It wouldn't take them long, he realised, before they found out that those morons had put her in the wrong cell. How long before they came looking for her? Maybe they'd figure it out and come take her in the morning ( _or maybe they wouldn't care until the next time they needed her for their shitty experiments_ ).

He sighed, frustrated by his own helplessness. He wanted to do something, _anything_ , to help her so badly, but there was nothing he could think of. For a super soldier, he felt pretty useless right now. So he did the only thing he was capable of at the moment, and held her in his arms as she slept, hoping that if he couldn't protect her from the people outside of his cell, he could at least keep her nightmares away, if only for one night.


End file.
